Snarky TARDIS IV: Domesticated
by Hope Meijer
Summary: Rose had given up, and curled up in his lap, mumbling something about men, food and explosions. [NineRose hints]


_Author's Note: More, more, more...too many plot bunnies! Set after The Long Game, so no more Adam._

* * *

DOMESTICATED

* * *

"_I don't do domestic."_

* * *

The first time it happened, he wasn't really surprised. 

He had strode down the corridor towards the noise, frowning and shaking his head, trying to focus and wake his sleep-fogged brain up enough to understand what the hell was going on. It was the middle of the night, and he had woken up to the sounds of banging and cursing.

"Rose?"

"Stupid – bloody – toaster – can't – get – the – damn – setting..." Each word was punctuated by a loud bang.

"Rose?"

There was silence, and he had rounded the corner, standing in the doorway of the kitchen and watched as Rose turned to face him, suddenly looking very sheepish.

"Hungry, were you?" he questioned.

She nodded. "Midnight snack, y'know."

"Yeah. If you'd just said, we could have gone out and stocked up on stuff."

"But..."

"Go to bed. We'll sort it out tomorrow."

And they had – he dutifully took her to 47th century Earth and allowed her to spend as much as she wished on the best comfort foods the large hypermarkets had to offer.

He assumed it wouldn't happen again.

* * *

The second time it happened, he thought she would learn from her mistakes. So he'd explained to her exactly _why_ he didn't use that kitchen anymore. 

"Why won't the damn thing do what I want it to?"

Rose had been standing in the middle of the kitchen, covered in the remains of what had apparently started life as baked beans. The saucepan upturned on the floor and the small flame burning merrily away on top of the cooker told him everything he needed to know.

So he had laughed.

It was only after she had threatened him with bodily harm, the saucepan and its remnants of what could have been a nice dinner and getting the TARDIS to lock him somewhere in its dark depths (the TARDIS had become rather protective of her) that he took pity on her.

"You do realise that before you came along, this kitchen hadn't been used in about...500 years?"

She'd stopped cleaning up, and looked at him, stretched out lazily in the chair. "Why?"

He shrugged. "The TARDIS hates kitchen appliances. They're a little temperamental, especially the ones I got from the hypermarket on Cenira Three's fifth moon, and after a little accident involving a toaster and some badly made Explo-Tarts, she refused to provide power. So I just used it for storing stuff."

"Where've you been eating?"

"Out. Restaurants, cafes, chippies..."

She set the saucepan in the sink, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly at his last comment.

"So why's she giving me power now?"

He had gone on to explain that there were no Explo-Tarts around to cause accidents, and the TARDIS probably assumed that Rose was more adept in the kitchen than himself, and wanted to wage war on the wayward appliances she was housing.

So Rose had given up, and curled up in his lap, mumbling something about men, food and explosions.

And that was that.

* * *

The third time it happened, he was mildly annoyed. Especially the fact that Rose had – once again – tried and failed to make what had looked like a _very _nice meal. And the fact she was stubborn enough to want to almost burn down the kitchen to get what she wanted. He had told her so, and been banned from her bedroom for a week. 

She extended it to a month when, on hurriedly leaving the room, he made a quiet comment about her sticking to chips from then on.

* * *

It had all gone quiet for a bit, until one day, she requested to be dropped off at her local stores in 2005. She had gone off (with a lot of his money) and he'd amused himself by taking a trip to Trafalgar Square and telling the pigeons that their plan for world domination would be foiled in 2053 and could they please stick to annoying the locals instead? 

When he got back to the TARDIS (swearing at the pigeons and grumbling he'd never get the stains out of that shirt, and thank heaven that he hadn't got his leather jacket with him), Rose was nowhere to be seen. But it was open, so he knew that she was in there somewhere. He went to his room and changed, then headed back to the control room to do some much needed tinkering.

It wasn't until later – much later – that he realised he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her, so he went searching for her.

And found her in the kitchen, muttering under her breath as she plugged appliances in, took others out, fixed things, put things away, cleared spaces and generally made the kitchen an actual kitchen.

After another twenty minutes, she finally acknowledged his presence with a gleeful smile as she closed the last cupboard and moved to stand next to him.

"You did this?" he took her hand, ignoring the fact he had just asked one of the most redundant questions ever.

"Yeah," she murmured. "But the TARDIS helped me too. She likes the new stuff."

Indeed she did; the room was glowing as if the TARDIS herself was glowing with pride.

"So."

"So?" she questioned.

"You gonna road-test it then?"

"Already have."

She grabbed a pair of oven mitts and pulled open the oven, revealing two plates of chicken and rice that had been keeping warm. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she shrugged nonchalantly. "I got some cookbooks while I was out. And one of me friend's mums taught me how to do some basic meals."

* * *

The month-long bedroom ban was lifted after some much-needed wrestling on the kitchen floor, and something else the TARDIS would much rather have happened in the bedroom or shower, thank you very much.

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm on a roll...expect #5 (Multitasking) to be along within the next few days! May be a little shorter, though._


End file.
